


What Comes Next?

by keykiyoshi7443



Series: Gotta Fix It [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 06:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10156412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keykiyoshi7443/pseuds/keykiyoshi7443
Summary: Derek's reaction to finding out Stiles made a deal.





	

Derek had died. Fact. Derek had had his throat ripped out by something – he distantly remembered Stiles (oh god, Stiles) rating about a video game villain – with sharp teeth in the place of his mate. Also Fact. He was standing in Stiles’ room while Stiles sobbed into his chest hysterically.

…fact?

How as this possible? The last thing he remembered was getting his throat ripped out and then nothing. That wasn’t an injury that even his super healing could heal. He had most definitely died. So why was he here, with Stiles in his arms? He absentmindedly cradled Stiles in his arms as he puzzled out what had happened.

“Stiles…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “What happened? Why am I back?” he murmured softly. He felt Stiles stiffen in his arms and tightened his hold slightly.

“It’s not important.” He said, his words muffled by the fact that Stiles had his face buried in Derek’s chest.

Derek frowned. “Stiles. I died. People don’t just come back to life!” he growled.

“Can you just drop it and be glad that we’re back together?” Stiles asked desperately. Derek remained silent, a clear answer.

“I made a deal.” The words were so quiet that Derek’s sharp ears almost didn’t catch it. ‘I did some research, found out that demons are real, and I made a deal.”

Derek stared down at the top of Stiles’ hair. “What did it cost?” he growled. He received no response from the still weeping teen. “WHAT DID IT COST?!” he very nearly roared.

Stiles let out a small sob, knowing full well he’d be unable to lie to Derek. He’d just hear his heart hiccup and know immediately. Besides, he didn’t keep secrets from his mate. Especially not now. “In 10 years – or if I die before that – I’m going to hell.” He choked. Derek froze.

“Dammit Stiles,” he said brokenly, clutching the mess of a boy close to him. 10 years at best. With their luck, it would be way sooner than that. Derek let a tear slip down his face and fall into Stiles’ hair. Stiles said nothing more as the two just held each other, and confirmed that they were there, and together, and _real_.

 

* * *

 

It took a couple of weeks, but Derek finally managed to find a way to contact the demon who made the deal with Stiles. In that time, he’d gotten used to being part of the pack again. Nobody had asked how he was back – they’d watched Stiles destroy himself for days, pouring over old books to find a way to bring him back (mates experience the death of the other very strongly, and they knew that) so they figured he’d just found a way.

They just assumed that since Derek wasn’t freaking out that everything was fine. It wasn’t like he was the first Hale to come back from the dead.

But unlike the pack, Derek just couldn’t let it go. H knew what the cost of his return would be, and it kept him up at night. He couldn’t stop having nightmares about when the hell hounds would come to take Stiles away in 10 years. He woke up in a cold sweat at least once every night after seeing Stiles being ripped apart before his very eyes. He needed to do something to fix this.

So while Stiles was at school, Derek broke into his room and went through Stiles’ research until he found the summoning ritual. Then it was a simple matter of going to the cross roads and switching out Stiles’ picture for his own.

He paced anxiously while he waited for _something_ , anything to show up. He needed to fix this. Then suddenly, the most foul sent he’d ever smelled drifted towards him. It was completely horrid, like rotten eggs. Sulfur.

He whipped around to see a figure in black standing just behind the box in the middle of the crossroads. He vaguely recognized him as one of the cops that worked pretty closely with the Sheriff. This fact rubbed him the wrong way. This was so wrong. The figure took a couple steps forward, keeping its hands behind its back. Its grin was sharp as it stared hungrily at the alpha with its pitch black eyes.

“Hello, little lost puppy. Why have you summoned me here? Your kind and mine don’t usually mix.” It said, its smile was all teeth. Derek half shifted in response.

“I’m here to make a deal.” He growled. The demon raised an eyebrow questioningly as he walked – more like sauntered – around Derek’s still form. “When you come to collect Stiles’ soul,” he continued, “take mine instead.”

The demon’s smile widened impossibly wide, as if Derek’s words had given it some perverse form of glee. “Well pup, as much as I’d like to accept that… counter proposal, I’m afraid I can’t!” It said mockingly, its cruel smile never wavering, amusement dancing in its eyes. “You see, mutt, your soul – if you can really call whatever _that_ is a soul – is destined to go to Purgatory where the rest of your disgusting breed is. Your soul simply isn’t worth it. No deal.”

Derek, reasonably enraged, was going to try and make the damned demon take him instead, but then it vanished into thin air, and he was left completely alone on the road. He wasn’t able to fix it. Stiles was going to go to hell.

Derek was helpless for the first time in a long time.

 

* * *

 

3 months.

3 months. That was how long Derek was able to stay with Stiles before he was violently ripped away from his soulmate yet again. The only differences were the fact that it wasn’t a Wendigo, and it wasn’t Derek who died a bloody death.

They were all there when it happened. Even the Sheriff. They’d been hunting pixies that had invaded territory when one had managed to get through them to the vulnerable humans. That blasted fae had been about to thrust its hand right through the Sheriff, but Stiles – ever the noble selfless boy – had pushed his father out of the way and took the hit. The fae’s arm messily tore out Stiles’ heart before wrenching its arm back and devouring the still beating organ.

Derek had seen red.

The enemy had been eliminated, but they’d taken Stiles with them. Moths before, Stiles had made him promise not to tell his father about how to make a deal, and Derek had kept his promise, no matter how much it pained him to do so.

He wouldn’t even be able to see Stiles when he died – his hopes were dashed long ago – so all he had left to live for were Stiles’ wishes.

He’d asked him to lie, to look after the pack and his mate’s father. Bu it was an empty existence. If the Sheriff caught him crying softly in Stiles’ room sometimes, he ever said anything.

 

* * *

 

6 months later, the teen in the pack were all graduating, and Stiles’ absence was being felt now more than ever. The pack had all gathered around Stiles grave after the ceremony, grieving the fact that he hadn’t even been able to graduate. It was a silent affair for the most part, everyone still in their formal attire. One would think that it was straight after a funeral based on the atmosphere.

No matter what insecure thoughts had plagued Stiles, he had always been pack to them

“You know,” Scott began his voice thick with emotion as he stared down at his friend’s grave.  “I first met Stiles when I was 5 years old. I had been sitting off to the side at recess while the other kids ran around and played because I had asthma. But instead of joining the other kids, Stiles chose to sit beside me. He did that every single day, never complaining once.” He whispered, as Allison gripped his sleeve tightly.

“Stiles had been crushing on me since we were in 3rd grade.” Lydia said, surprising everyone with the fact that she was even speaking. “I knew of course, it wasn’t like he was subtle. He even had this ridiculous 10 year plan to woo me. I had dismissed him as a nobody, but when I got to know him, I learned just how great of a friend he could be.” She choked slightly, “I never said it back. Even if it isn’t romantic, that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.” Her voice wobbled as she struggled not to cry.

No one wanted to be the next person to speak.

Then, out of nowhere a rancid smell permeated the area and the wolves’ heads all snapped up to try and find the smell. Derek would recognize both the Sulfur and the underlying smell anywhere.

“Why so down? It’s your graduation day after all!” a slightly raspy – not in the recovering from a cold kind of way, but in the been screaming until hoarse or the talked too much kind of way that they were all so familiar with – voice called from the entrance of the cemetery.

They turned their heads so fast that the humans of the bunch almost got whiplash. The figure was standing just far enough that they couldn’t make out his facial features. He was tall and lanky and pale. He wore a black and gunmetal grey suit which was eerily identical to the one they’d buried their friend in. It looked just as crisp as it would the day it was bought; it even had the white rose pinned ever so carefully to the lapel.

Then the figure continued to approach and the light fell on his face, revealing a cheeky grin and a slightly upturned nose. It was Stiles.

“It’s nice to see that you missed me,” he smirked, his eyes flashing black.


End file.
